


25 Christmases

by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, France (Country), Getting Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, friends to lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 12,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: 25 Christmases in the life of John and Sherlock.





	1. 2010

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> For this Christmas, I’m going to publish a short chapter (around 500 words for each) each day of the month until Christmas. It will follow John and Sherlock through 25 Christmas, so you can expect some angst at first but then a lot (LOT) of fluff! 
> 
> Enjoy,  
> Pauline.
> 
> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/)  
> 

John took one last look at their sitting room, eyes moving from the lights hanging around the windows to the food waiting on the coffee table, and let out a quiet sigh. It seemed like they actually,  _ actually _ , managed to make it on time. No thanks to Sherlock, of course.

“I really don’t see the point of all this,” Sherlock complained, again, before reaching for his violin.

John smiled as he shook his head, “You like all this, admit it.”

Sherlock glared at him, “I really don’t,” and John got the implied  _ don’t be an idiot _ perfectly.

He rolled his eyes before checking his phone one last time. Jeanette still hadn’t told him she was on her way, and John was starting to worry she was going to bail on him. It wouldn’t surprise him, especially considering the last two times they went out together. Sherlock really didn’t make it easy, this whole dating business, and John was seriously doubting he would ever make it through one proper date without Sherlock barging in with a case or some emergency. It could almost be funny, John realised, if it wasn’t ruining his every chance at dating anyone. After all, he was only dating in a, surely, vain hope to stop pining over Sherlock all the bloody time.

“I still can’t believe you invited Mycroft,” Sherlock suddenly said, lowering his violin and actually looking worried.

“I think my text both surprised and offended him to be honest,” John replied, smiling as he sat in his chair. “And it’s not like he’s coming anyway, so stop glaring at me.”

Sherlock’s lips stretched into a smile, “He would have eaten all the cake, you know.”

John threw his head back as he laughed, feeling himself relax just a little. Sherlock didn’t resume playing but kept still by the window, his back turned to him. John looked back at him, the question that had been tempting him all day threatening to escape. He glanced at Sherlock’s phone on the table, screen black and almost forgotten there. As if John could ever forget it was right here.

“Had you-” he started but bit his lip, eyes darting back to Sherlock.

“Had I what?” Sherlock asked, not turning and John thanked him silently.

_ Had you planned to spend Christmas with her? _

“Have you ever hosted your own Christmas party before?” He found himself asking, and the moment Sherlock turned around and fixed his eyes on him, John looked away. Sherlock was going to deduce the reason behind his obvious lie in seconds, and he really didn’t need this just before their guests arrived.

Sherlock set down his violin, fingers brushing his phone as he did and John felt the knot in his chest tighten. It was ridiculous. He had no right to be jealous. Sherlock was free to do as he pleased, to text who he wanted, to desire who he lik-

“Lestrade is here.”

John looked back up with a start, finding Sherlock much closer than anticipated and he held his breath. Sherlock’s eyes were roaming all over his face, his entire body hovering above him and John found himself hoping he could bring him down and crash their mouths together.  _ You’re mine _ , he would whisper against his lips.  _ Mine _ .

“You do realise you’re supposed to answer the door at your own party, right?” They both turned at the same time toward Lestrade. “Everything’s alright?”

John was up on his feet immediately, “Sorry, we didn’t hear it ring.”

Lestrade laughed, Sherlock sighed, and John’s phone showed two missed calls.


	2. 2011

_ Coming tonight? _

John stared at the text.

_ No one needs to be alone on Christmas day, John. _

_ I sure don’t want to be, mate. _

_ He wouldn’t want you to be alone _ .

The air was sucked out of John’s lungs. His fingers tightened around his glass.

_ Christ, what am I saying, I never knew what was going on that big head of his. _

_ I’m sorry. I’m probably the last person you want to see this Christmas anyway. _

He’s right. John didn’t want to see him or he’d do something he would regret. It was too soon, still too soon.

_ You realise I never wanted this, right? It never crossed my mind that he would- _

Stop. He needed to stop. John couldn’t think about Sherlock’s skull cracking on the pavement. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.

_ Fuck. I’m sorry, John. _

John didn’t care for his sorry. He wanted Sherlock back, wanted him right here, pressed against him and so very alive.

_ I really think you shouldn’t be alone, John. _

“I am alone,” John said to the silent room around him.

His phone rang once more but John was already out of the flat. He didn’t even know why he was still here. He should have moved out months ago, should have packed and left the life he had always wanted behind him. It was insane to stay, to look at the sofa and remember Sherlock’s sleeping form there, to sit in the kitchen and hear Sherlock’s voice warning him about the orange juice, to lie awake at night and convince himself Sherlock was sleeping in his own bed.

“Stop,” he whispered under his breath, closing his jacket more firmly around himself. “Stop it.”

The park was full, children, couples, families, and John wanted to run back home.

“John, is that you?”

John stopped, recognizing the voice immediately and vainly hoping he could make himself disappear.

“John?”

“Hi Mike,” he sighed, turning around.

“I thought it was you,” Mike smiled, a sad smile that made John’s chest ache. “What are you doing here?”

John shrugged, “Just walking.”

Mike took a step closer, “Nothing planned for tonight then?”

John looked away, realising he didn’t need an answer.

“You could come by the house, Lara is cooking for the entire family,” Mike offered, still smiling.

“I think I’ll pass on that, sorry,” John replied, finding himself unable to smile back.

Mike remained silent, watching the two dogs playing in front of them. God, how John hated this.

“Listen, I have to-”

“I’m sorry, Joh-”

John closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Mike repeated, softer this time. “I never thought he would ever-” he sighed. “And all the things the media are say-”

“It’s not true!” John snapped. “Any of it!”

“I know it’s not,” Mike replied with another smile, this time close enough to place one hand on his shoulder and rub it slowly.

“Sorry, shit, I’m sorry,” John apologized quickly. Mike let go of his shoulder. “I should go home.”

“I meant it,” Mike said as he started to walk away. “You can spend the evening with us.”

“I’ll be fine, Mike,” John called, too afraid to turn around. “I’ll see you soon.”

He could feel his friend’s eyes on him all the way out of the park.


	3. 2012

Sherlock buried his nose inside his scarf, the freezing breeze of December making him shiver. He closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, trying to push away the voice inside his head, and let out a surprised gasp as he collided into someone.

“Carefu-”

"Joyeux noël, mec!"

The group of students raised their bottles in the air, one of them trying to pat his shoulder, but Sherlock moved away before he could touch him. Drunk, clearly on their way to yet another party and three of them sleeping with each other, _boring_. Sherlock sighed, crossing the road quickly and walking on the opposite sidewalk.

He shouldn’t be here.

He had a home, a place where he belonged, and it was far away from the cold streets of Paris. He had someon-

Sherlock stopped himself before he could let his mind linger on dangerous thoughts. It was strange how Christmas always reminded him of John now. They had only shared one Christmas after all, and according to most standards, it hadn’t been a good one. Their guests had left early, the diner had been forgotten and the gift exchange a disaster. Still, Sherlock could still remember John’s red cheeks and the laugh lines around his eyes perfectly.

He would give anything, right now, right here, to be back in Baker Street and playing his violin while John listened in his chair.

“Joyeux Noël,” a voice called next to him and Sherlock looked down at the old man sitting on one of the benches. The man stared up at him. “Vous aussi vous êtes seul?”

Sherlock was about to reply, to pretend not to understand and walk away but before he could think twice about it, he was sitting next to him, “Oui.”

“Oh,” the man smiled, “not french?”

Sherlock shook his head, “London.”

The man’s smile widened, “London, I’ve been there.”

Sherlock remained silent, still not sure why he hadn’t left yet, why he had sat down at all.

“Alone and far from home then?” The man asked with a faint accent.

Sherlock looked back at him properly. Sixty-eight, divorced, no children. Alone.

“Work,” he simply replied, and the man shrugged.

“Too bad,” he sighed. “Left someone alone back in London?”

Sherlock opened his mouth but no sound came out. It didn’t matter what he replied, he would never meet this man again, would never have to justify anything to him, so really, why not?

“Yes,” he breathed out. “He’s waiting for me at home.”

The man smiled sadly at him, “Not the Christmas you were both expecting, I’m sure.”

Sherlock shook his head, a knot in his chest, “I would rather be with him.”

“I’m sure he would too,” the man continued to smile before sighing. “Being far from the person you love during the holidays is not easy.”

 _I’m not sure he loves me anymore_ , Sherlock almost whispered.

“I hope you’ll get to go back home soon,” the man said after a moment, taking his hands out of his pockets and warming them together.

Sherlock nodded, not certain he could speak at the moment, and clenched his own fingers together so he wouldn’t reach for his phone and do something stupid. They didn’t talk for several minutes, both of them staring at the road in front of them, most likely seeing something else entirely.

The man let out a sudden laugh, turning to look at him and winking before saying, “You’ll just have to make next Christmas count, won’t you?”

Sherlock felt his own lips stretch into a smile, “I guess I’ll have to, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The students said "Merry Christmas, dude!"  
> The old man asked, "Are you alone too?"


	4. 2013

_ Merry Christmas, John _ .  _ SH _

**Thanks. I’m sorry we had to leave**

**town for the holiday.**

_ Don’t apologize. You know I _

_ hate Christmas anyway. SH _

**You mean I know you actually**

**love it?**

_ I’m fairly sure I don’t. SH _

**Why do I feel like we’ve had**

**this conversation before. A lot!**

_ You’re the one always bringing it up. SH _

**Am not.**

_ How was the trip? SH _

**Really, small talk?**

_ Bored. SH _

**Please, don’t annoy Mrs. Hudson**

**all evening, and all night!**

_ She left. Can’t remember why. SH _

**Then, please, don’t blow up the flat.**

_ I’ll do my best. SH _

**That’s already more than I**

**hoped for!**

_ You didn’t answer. SH _

**What?**

**Oh, yes! It was fine, Mary drove**

**all the way back here obviously.**

**Didn’t seem that long in the end.**

_ We had longer trips. SH _

**Oh god, don’t remind me. Remember**

**the case in that lost town all the way**

**up North?**

_ You know I never forget anything, John. SH _

**Not even the solar system?**

**Sorry, sorry.**

**I remember thinking the trip**

**would never end!**

_ It did. SH _

**Yes. It did.**

**I have to go, Mary is waiting.**

**I’ll see you when we get back, ok?**

_ Yes, obviously. SH _

**Merry Christmas, Sherlock.**

 

* * * *

 

“Who was it?” Mary asked as soon as John put his phone away.

He turned to look at her, putting on her coat, “Sherlock.”

She stopped, staring at him before frowning, “Everything’s alright?”

John shook his head, “Yes, just bored.”

She laughed, “He does get bored a lot, yes?”

John stared down at the floor, “You have no idea.”

 

* * * *

 

The sound of his violin filled the room, taking all the space and making his chest ache, but Sherlock continued to play. Eyes closed, lips sealed, heart pounding. 

John was gone. He hadn’t stayed, hadn’t found an excuse to stay and avoid a rather useless get away in the country for the holiday. He went, of course. Mary had asked, had organised everything. John couldn’t say no, not to his fiancée. He couldn’t.

Not for Sherlock.

Not anymore.

 

* * * *

 

Mary’s hand was warm in his, and for a moment, John focused on that only.

He forgot about the phone in his coat pocket. He forgot about the empty chair in 221B. He forgot about the melody Sherlock used to play during long evenings spent together. It wasn’t his life anymore. Mary was his life, she was his future, the person he had put his trust and love in.

Not Sherlock.

Not Sherlock.

 

* * * *

Sherlock climbed the stairs slowly.

If he tried hard enough, he could picture John behind the upstairs door. He could almost hear him pace, hear him talk to himself. If he tried even harder, he could breathe in the faint smell of soap and green tea.

He would only have to push the door open, walk to him and wrap himself around him. John would laugh, would tell him they needed to get ready, that their reservation was in less than twenty minutes and that they really couldn’t afford to be late.

He would kiss the hairs on John’s nape, taste him where the neck met shoulder and feel John give in into him. He would whisper  _ Let’s stay in, we got all we need right here _ , and John would kiss the words from his lips.

He stopped two steps away from the door and turned around.


	5. 2014

John found him smoking in the garden.

“I thought you had quit?”

Sherlock didn’t turn around, listening carefully as John got closer until he could catch sight of him from the corner of his eye. He was handsome in a way Sherlock had not yet been able to get used to.

“Your mother is looking for you,” John added, his voice softer than usual, and Sherlock closed his eyes.

“She’s even worse than usual,” Sherlock sighed.

John took another step closer, their arms almost brushing, and Sherlock ignored the small shiver running down his spine. “What do you me-” he stopped, looking down at his feet. “Oh, right.”

“I’m certain she’s trying to bribe Mycroft into telling her who shot me.”

John didn’t look up.

“She can be a bit too overprotective,” Sherlock continued, not sure why he was still talking at this point.

Seconds seemed to stretch into hours.

“Sherlock, I-”

“Have you read it?” Sherlock stopped him, not yet ready to hear whatever John had been hiding from him for the past few months. He couldn’t do this, not now, not tonight.

John’s eyes found his, silence falling upon them again.

“No,” John finally said.

Sherlock nodded slightly, wondering when John had become so hard to read, and looked away again. He needed to accept the simple fact that John had made his choice. It didn’t matter that they had spent the past months back together in Baker Street, didn’t matter that John had sat in his chair night after night, didn’t matter that Sherlock had gotten used to making two cups of tea every morning again.

“I should thank you,” Sherlock whispered after a moment, unable to look back at John yet.

“Thank me?”

Sherlock took another deep breath of his cigarette, “For staying with me, for taking care of my wound, of me.”

John remained silent, eyes still fixed on him, and Sherlock clenched his fingers inside his pocket.

“I-” John started but stopped, clearing his throat. “It was the least I could do.”

Sherlock smiled, the urge to wrap himself around John and never let go overtaking him again.

“You really didn’t,” he replied instead, casting him a quick look. “You had a pregnant wife at home, waiting for you.”

Something dark passed in John’s eyes for the briefest of seconds, “A lying wife.”

Sherlock considered his next words for a moment, “Still, a wife.”

“I needed time,” John said in a breath, “Or else I would hav-” He inhaled deeply. “I needed some time away, so I should be the one thanking you. For letting me stay with you.”

Sherlock felt himself smile, an ache spreading throughout his entire chest, “221B is your home just as it is mine, John.”

John took another step closer and for a moment, Sherlock hoped he would make the choice for the both of them, but he only raised one hand to catch Sherlock’s cigarette, “You need to stop smoking.”  
Sherlock remained unable to move as John’s fingers brushed his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter marks the end of the angst for this story! I promise, it's all fluff from now on!


	6. 2015

Sherlock looked up from his computer, eyes darting to John sitting in his chair to the mistletoe Mrs. Hudson had hung up in their doorway. Why did she have to put it there? They hadn’t had any,  _ any _ , reason to go out all day. Sherlock had tried to call Lestrade ( _ No Sherlock, it’s Christmas, leave me alone _ ), had asked if John wanted to grab some takeaway ( _ With all the food Mrs. Hudson baked for us? _ ) and had even pretended that they needed to go check on some bodies at the morgue ( _ Molly’s away for the holiday, remember? _ ).

Not a single reason to open the door and force them both to step under that stupid plant.

“Alright,” John sighed all of the sudden, making Sherlock jump. “What’s bothering you?”

Sherlock frowned, eyes back on the screen, “Nothing’s bothering me.”

He heard John put down his book, “You’ve been staring at your computer for the past hour and haven’t typed anything!”

Sherlock cursed himself before closing his laptop, “I’m thinking.”

John smiled, shaking his head and Sherlock found he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. It wasn’t his fault. John had been back for months, months of lingering stares and casual touches that were slowly driving Sherlock out of his mind. He didn’t know, couldn’t know if John wanted  _ this _ , if this was a way to tell him, and he wasn’t sure he could take it any longer.

The mistletoe had seemed like the perfect way to find out, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You haven’t even tried to guess your gift yet,” John pointed out with another smile, more private this time, and Sherlock licked his lips.

“I already guessed it days ago,” he said absently.

“No you didn’t,” John replied, almost in a breath.

Sherlock forced himself to look away, knowing he couldn’t get away with it any longer, and his eyes found the stupid mistletoe again. He did his best not to glare at it and picked up his phone with a sigh, “You got me a new set of lenses for my experiment.”

It took several seconds for him to realise John wasn’t replying, and when Sherlock looked up, John’s focus was entirely on the door.

_ Oh _ .

Sherlock swallowed with difficulty, “John?”

John didn’t look away from the doorway as he stood up and walked toward it, all the air rushing out of Sherlock’s lungs when he opened the door and stopped right under the mistletoe. Sherlock scrambled to his feet as soon as John’s eyes found his again, and he took the last few steps between them with his heart pounding inside his chest.

“You had to know,” John whispered, his voice so quiet and yet taking all the place inside Sherlock’s head. “You were always- It could only be you.”  Sherlock stopped breathing entirely. “Only you.”

“John,” Sherlock could only breathe out, the two of them standing far too close and not close enough at the same time.

“Just to be clear,” John whispered with a smile, leaning closer, “I don’t need a bloody sprig  of mistletoe to kiss you.”

“It’s tradition,” Sherlock found himself replying, apparently not thinking properly anymore.

“Better make the best of it then,” John murmured against his lips, and really, Sherlock needed to stop thinking now.

He fought to keep his eyes open as John finally pressed their lips together, hoping to commit everything to memory, but they fluttered closed when John hummed softly and pulled away only to kiss him again. Sherlock took in the softness of his lower lip, the faint taste of tea and the tickling feeling of John’s eyelashes against his cheek, took it  _ all _ and made it his.


	7. 2016

The entire thing was stupid.

John had told him what he wanted, explicitly, many times, and yet, Sherlock was still looking for a gift on Christmas day. He really couldn’t just buy him a new journal. It was their first Christmas as a couple, and Sherlock was certain there was some kind of rule when it came to buying present for your partner.

Something special. Something that says  _ I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life _ .

Obviously not a journal.

“Sherlock? What are you doing lying there?”

“Thinking,” Sherlock replied with a sigh, not bothering to look up at Lestrade.

“I can see that, but why on my sofa, in my flat?”

Sherlock let out another sigh, turning to face him, “John is at home.”

Lestrade frowned before sitting down on his coffee table, “You had a f-”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Sherlock cut him off as he sat up.

“Fine, I won’t,” Lestrade smiled before taking off his coat and rubbing a hand over his face. “So why are you here?”

Sherlock considered his next words carefully before sighing, “I can’t find the perfect gift.”

Lestrade stared at him for a second, “You do know Christmas is tonight, right?” Sherlock glared at him, making him laugh. “Sorry, sorry. The perfect gift?”

“I do hate repeating myself.”

Lestrade raised both hands in sign of apology, “Alright. Why haven’t you found it yet, can’t you just deduce what John needs?”

“Of course I can,” Sherlock sighed again, standing up and starting to pace around the room, “He needs a new mug, a journal, new shirts and obviously a jacket, and I got him all that but it’s not the-”

“Perfect gift, yep, got that,” Lestrade cut in before standing up and forcing him to stop pacing. “Listen, I think what John really needs right now, is to have his boyfriend  _ with him _ for Christmas. Then, I’m sure you can figure out something John really likes and give it to hi-”

“I’d prefer you to stop now,” Sherlock said before he could finish.

Lestrade laughed, winking at him before patting his shoulder, “You don’t have to find the perfect gift, I’m certain John just wants a nice evening and some really goo-”

“I said stop.”

Lestrade took a step backward, still laughing before heading for the kitchen, “I’m just saying, go home and…”

Sherlock was out of the flat before he could finish, practically running down the stairs. Lestrade was right, so obviously right, and he couldn’t believe he had spent three hours away from John for no reason. He should be kissing him, should be trapping him on the sofa and tasting the skin behind his earlobe and stealing all of his warmth.

Sherlock ran faster. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for yours kudos and comments, it's my own personal advent calendar just reading them every day <3


	8. 2017

“What are you doing?” John asked with a smile, walking to Sherlock before dropping a quick kiss on his shoulder.

“Adding the eggs,” Sherlock replied absently, leaning into him all the same.

John’s smile widened, “I already mixed the eggs.”

Sherlock froze, staring down at his baking mix before looking at him, “You did?”

John laughed, nodding and leaning in for a proper kiss this time, Sherlock still too stunned to kiss him back properly, and John pulled away slowly, “It’s alright, Mrs. Hudson will only have to eat 40 Christmas biscuits.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, sighing but also smiling and John considered kissing him again, “We’ll keep some for ourselves, obviously.”

John pressed closer to him, forcing Sherlock to face him properly, “Oh really?”

Sherlock nodded, eyes travelling over his face, and John let the feeling sink in. He was this brilliant man’s lover, partner and so much more. It was still strange some mornings, waking up to Sherlock’s body half on top of his, his curls tickling his nose and their breath merging into one. John felt like he belonged, those mornings. He was Sherlock’s, entirely, without a doubt, and yet it was still a marvel to realise Sherlock was  _ his _ just as much.

“Yes,” Sherlock said in a breath, “I know you love them.”

John shook his head, “I don’t lo-”

Sherlock cut him off with a kiss, leaning forward quickly and sealing their lips together with a soft sigh. John relaxed into the touch, letting Sherlock play with his lower lip until he parted them slowly. God, how he loved to kiss this man. Where it had been awkward and sloppy at first, Sherlock had (quickly) become very, very good at this. John could still remember the heated snogging the week following their first kiss, and their aching erections pressed together on the sofa.

Not that it had changed much, in fact.

“You’re distracting,” Sherlock whispered against his lips.

“Good,” John smiled before nipping at his chin, kissing his way along his jaw to his ear.

“The cake will be overcooked if we keep doing this,” Sherlock warned, not moving away.

John rolled their hips together, feeling Sherlock shiver and a deep moan escape him, “I don’t care.”

He felt Sherlock laugh, his hands now pressed on his arse, “You were the one insisting we needed to bake for Mrs. Hudson in the first place.”

John backed him up against the table, a familiar desire pooling in his groin, “I’m an idiot, you should know that.”

Sherlock threw his head back, arching against him as he moaned, “John.”

John kissed the offered neck, teeth grazing and feeling the hardening bulge in Sherlock’s trousers against his own, “She probably has already cooked her own biscuits anyway.”

Sherlock’s hands tightened around his arse, “Cinnamon and chocolate,” he gasped, “Could smell them this morning.”

“No other objections then?” John teased, sucking at Sherlock’s pulse point and feeling him shake in his arms.

“I wasn- Oh- I wasn’t objecting,” Sherlock gasped, hands sliding up his back and neck only to pull his head back.

“Good,” John smiled before crashing their mouths together again. 


	9. 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After yesterday's teasing chapter, here comes the good stuff!
> 
> Rating goes up!

Sherlock arched on the bed, mouth hanging open in a silent moan and his fingers clenching the sheets, and John had never seen anyone more beautiful, more breathtaking than this brilliant man beneath him.

He kissed at his collarbone, “You feel amazing.”

“John,” Sherlock gasped, his legs tightening where they were wrapped around his waist, “Please.”

John smiled against his skin, not moving, “What do you want?”

He felt Sherlock shudder under him, his entire body arching again, “Please, mo- move.”

John rolled his hips so very slowly, looking up at Sherlock’s face and taking it all in, “Like this?”

Sherlock shook his head on the pillow, teeth biting at his lower lip as he canted his hips to pull John deeper inside him, “Don’t be an id-”

John pulled out almost completely, leaving just the head of his cock inside Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes snapped open, moaning a loud “No!” as both of his hands flew to John’s arse, keeping him right where he was.

John smiled down at him, leaning in just enough to brush their lips together, “You told me to move, love.”

He felt Sherlock exhale loudly, his tongue emerging to tease his lips and John resisted the urge to kiss him. His hips were starting to hurt from holding his position, and his erection was aching, but he kept still, waiting.

“Not like that,” Sherlock finally whispered, slowly guiding John fully back inside him.

John stole a quick kiss, “Tell me then.” Sherlock moaned, rocking their hips together and John knew he had just brushed that soft bundle of nerves inside him. “Show me.”

Sherlock let out another shattering breath before starting to pull away as much as he could manage in his position, before taking John back in. John held back, still staring down at him, until he could almost feel Sherlock’s frustration, “John, please!”

John laughed, leaning down to kiss him properly this time, tongues meeting again and again as he started to thrust into him. Sherlock was already shaking in his arms, most likely from all the build up, and John knew it wouldn’t take long to bring him to climax. Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t make it as pleasurable as possible for the both of them.

Sherlock’s hands had found their rightful place around John’s nape, keeping him close as they continued to kiss, and John slowly let his own trail down. He grabbed at Sherlock’s knees, forcing him to raise them higher, and he pushed into him much deeper this time.

“John!” Sherlock cried out, throwing his head back.

“You’re beautiful,” John breathed out, kissing the skin of Sherlock’s neck now. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“You t- you are beau- Oh, John- tiful too.”

John drove into him faster, their hips slamming together and the room now filled with their ragged breathing. God, how John wanted him. After all these years, so many and not enough at the same time. John was starting to doubt he would ever not crave Sherlock like this. Not when he could get drunk on his moans, on his body, on his lips.

“Oh god, John, I’m-”

John cut him off with a kiss, breathing against his lips, “Yes, yes.”

Sherlock held onto him as he came between their stomachs, completely untouched, and John barely managed to thrust into him two, three more times before he was coming too, Sherlock’s name on his lips. He let himself fall boneless on top of him, the two of them still kissing lazily, and John felt Sherlock's smile inside the kiss.

“What it is?”

Sherlock closed his eyes, sighing happily, “It’s Christmas.”

John frowned, glancing at the clock, “Oh.” He smiled back at him, “Happy Christmas, then.”

Sherlock rolled them both to their sides, still wrapped around John before declaring all too seriously, “I do hope that was only one of your gifts.”

John’s laugh echoed in the room for several seconds.


	10. 2019

John sat nervously in his chair. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to do this. After all this time, all those years spent thinking he would never live  _ this _ life, and yet, here he was. Sherlock would come home in less than five minutes and John was going to propose.

Propose to Sherlock Holmes.

“Christ,” John whispered to himself, lips stretching into a smile.

If he was honest with himself, there wasn’t much risk Sherlock would say no. After all, they had talked about this before and it had been pretty clear from the start that they were in for the long term. John had been in love for too long so really there was no other way.

He was going to ask Sherlock to marry him.

John stood up, starting to pace around the room, heart suddenly pounding. He shouldn’t be worried, it would be fine. Perfectly fine. Sherlock had told him he loved him, not even two hours ago, and when you love someone you couldn’t say no, right?

“Stop it, for god’s sake!”

Letting out a loud sigh, John rubbed a hand over his face.

“Stop what?” Came Sherlock’s voice from behind him.

John froze, looking up quickly, “Oh, you’re here!”

Sherlock frowned at him, closing the door before walking toward him, “Something’s wrong.”

John shook his head, “Nothing’s wrong, no,” he hurried to reply, Sherlock already leaning into his personal space and stopping inches away from his lips.

“It is because I guessed my Christmas gift?”

John laughed softly, unable to resist the urge to kiss him before saying, “You didn’t.”

Sherlock smiled, not moving away, “Found the books two weeks ago, barely held myself back from reading them.”

John laughed again, the sound getting lost into another kiss, before whispering, “I’m impressed, you do love me.”

Sherlock pulled away, frowning at him, “Obviously.”

They stared at each other for long seconds, John’s arms around Sherlock’s waist and still close enough to feel his chest rise against his own, and it hit him,  _ he was going to propose to this brilliant, beautiful, extraordinary man _ .

“You’re still nervous,” Sherlock said in a breath, hands coming up to cup his face.

“You do know I love you, right?” John asked, not certain what he was trying to say exactly.

Sherlock’s frown deepened, “Yes.”

“And that I want this, right here, for the rest of my life,” John continued, sensing he was entirely giving it away but not caring any longer. “I don’t ever want to spend another day without being completely yours.”

“John…” Sherlock whispered, eyes widening.

“I’ve loved you for a very long time, Sherlock Holmes,” John smiled, “And I intend to do so for a even longer time.”

Sherlock seemed to have stopped breathing entirely as John moved away to reach into his pocket, giving up on the idea to go down to one knee when he realised Sherlock would probably refuse to let go of him anyway, and taking out the small dark box.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he started, Sherlock’s eyes now fixed on the box. “Would you marry me?”

He opened the box, revealing a gold, quite simple, ring, and Sherlock turned out to be the one falling to his knees. “Careful, love,” John smiled, following him down on the floor, “You’ll hurt yo-”

“John, please,” Sherlock cut him off, eyes back on him and tears starting to form there. “Please.”

John felt his own throat tighten with emotions, pulling out the ring and slowly easing it on Sherlock’s finger, Sherlock whispering a quiet  _ yes _ over and over.


	11. 2020

Sherlock stared down at his phone, teeth biting at his lower lip, “He should arrive soon.”

“Good,” John replied, stepping closer and blowing into his hands, “I’m freezing.”

Sherlock shook his head, smiling, “It’s one am, it’s December, I do believe it’s supposed to be cold outside.”

John snorted, poking him in the waist, “Smart ass.”

A movement caught their attention, but it was just a couple walking by them and Sherlock felt John relax against him again. He put his phone away before sliding one arm around John. “You feel warm to me.”

“You’re warm too,” John sighed happily, looking up at him and really there was no other option than to lean in and kiss him. “Your lips are cold,” John whispered when they parted, still smiling. “Better warm them up, don’t you think?”

“I always knew my husband was clever,” Sherlock smiled back.

John rolled his eyes, both hands sliding inside Sherlock’s coat pocket, “Will you ever get tired of calling me your husband?”

Sherlock shook his head, smile widening before John was kissing him again. Sherlock forgot about the case, about the cold weather and the three hours they had spent already on a stake-out. There was just John, right here, smiling and smelling like the both of them, and Sherlock had never needed anything else.

“Sherlock!” John suddenly gasped, pulling away, “He’s right here.”

Looking back at the club’s entry doors, Sherlock grabbed John’s hand before grinning at him, “Let’s go dance, then!”

John was still laughing when they got into the club, the music too loud and too many people cheering, but they managed to catch sight of their suspect at the bar. They shouldn’t have to wait too long considering their suspect’s tendency to act quickly. John was already ordering a glass of water, Sherlock only shaking his head when he looked at him. He needed to focus before their suspect slipped away.

John barely had the time to take a sip of his water before Sherlock was walking away from the bar, “The buyer is here.”

“Texting Lestrade right now,” John replied immediately.

“We don’t nee-”

“We do,” John cut him off. “If we don’t do this properly, he’ll walk away.”

Sherlock let out a loud sigh. John was right, of course, but still, it didn’t mean they couldn’t keep an eye on him while they waited for the Yard. He stopped when they were close enough without raising any suspicion, and he caught John smiling next to him, “What?”

“We’re standing in the middle of the dance floor, completely still.”

Sherlock frowned, “Well observed but-”

John closed one hand in his coat, pulling him closer until they were pressed chest to chest, “We have to dance.”

Sherlock stared down at him, “We’re in the middle of a case.”

John smiled, both arms now sliding around his waist, “We’ll fit right in and I get to dance with you.” He leant up to kiss him, “Consider it my Christmas gift.”

Sherlock relaxed into the kiss, breathing out a soft, “I had other gifts in mind, you know.” before letting John sway them together slowly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, I died from the trailer yesterday and barely managed to write this chapter.... but everything's just fine....


	12. 2021

Sherlock found John waiting by the front of the shop, looking around and smiling when he finally caught sight of him, “Where were you?”

Sherlock smiled back at him, taking in his red cheeks and nose, and resisting the urge to kiss him here and now, “Just needed to do something.”

John sighed but quickly leant into him, most likely seeking warmth, and Sherlock welcomed him into his arms. He cast one last look at the man standing by one of the benches, smiling at him and waving before turning around.

“Not that I’m complaining,” John said after a second, looking up at him, “I am happy we get to spend Christmas in Paris this year, but why couldn’t we actually go somewhere warm?”

Sherlock laughed softly, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before saying, “Come on, let’s go have dinner.”

John slid his hand against his, threading their fingers together before nodding, “I take it you know a place, then?”

Sherlock squeezed his hand, looking away as he replied a quiet, “I do.”

John frowned at him, and Sherlock began to walk them both toward the next street, but John was already pulling them both to a stop, “What is it?”

Sherlock shook his head, “Nothing, I’m just hungry.”

“Love,” John said softly, “Don’t lie to me.”

Sherlock let out a small sigh, “I am actually hungry, you know.”

John took a step closer, pushing them both toward the nearest building so they wouldn’t be in the way of the other pedestrians, before asking, “How do you know this place?”

Sherlock looked down at their joined hands, “I’ve been to Paris before.” He could feel John’s eyes fixed on him. “I came when- When I was away.”

It took a second for John to understand, “Oh.”

Sherlock held tightly onto his hand, “One of Moriarty’s men was hiding here so I stayed for a little more than a month.”

John reached for his neck, cupping it slowly before bringing his face down for a kiss. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, breathing him in, taking it all in. John was there, his husband, his lover, his best friend,  _ his _ .

“I love you,” John whispered against his lips. “I love you.”

Sherlock exhaled loudly, refusing to move away yet, and brushed their lips together once more, “I hated the time I spent here. Every single moment of every day.”

John pressed them closer, “Then let’s go eat someplace else, somewhere you’ve never been, somewhere we get to discover together.”

Sherlock opened his eyes, staring right into John’s and feeling his chest expand with that marvelous, incredible warmth, “Yes,” he said softly, “Alright.”

John smiled, kissing him again, “And tomorrow we’ll take the time to properly visit the city, not because we’re chasing after a art thief. We’ll make new memories, ones that would erase the month you spent here alone.”

Sherlock nodded, unable to speak at this very second, and leant in for another, longer, deeper kiss. John moaned softly into the touch, pressing them against the building, and sliding the hand still on Sherlock’s neck into his hair.

“Or we could go back to the hotel,” Sherlock panted when they parted, suddenly hungry for much more, and caught John’s laugh directly from his lips. 


	13. 2022

Sherlock burst into the flat as John was pretending to read. He had been waiting all morning for him to come back, and it seemed that Sherlock had not minded taking his time at the morgue. Still, John smiled as he closed his book, watching Sherlock walk to him before dropping a quick kiss on his lips.

“Hello, love,” John greeted him, having woken up without Sherlock in their bed, “Find anything interesting?”

Sherlock shook his head, “Nothing. Molly wasn’t even here.”

“I think she took some time off for Christmas this year,” John remarked, vaguely remembering her talking about it the last time she visited.

Sherlock hummed, sitting down in his own chair and staring at him before sighing, “I think Mrs. Hudson has a dog.”

John felt his heart skip a beat, “A dog?”

Sherlock nodded, “I noticed a different smell around her flat two days ago, but couldn’t put my finger on it. But as I passed her door today, I’m certain I heard barking.”

John swallowed with difficulty, pretending to put his book down to look away, “I haven’t heard anything all morning.”

Sherlock hummed again, arranging both hands under his chin and continuing, “I don’t understand why she would get one. Dogs are messy, they need to be taken out every day and at her age, she can’t assume the responsibility all by herself.”

John glanced back at him, “You think it’s bad idea?”

Sherlock leant back in his chair, crossing his legs, “I think it’s a poor choice to have a dog in a flat, they need air and..”

John stopped listening, wondering what he was supposed to do with the puppy downstairs now. Maybe Mrs. Hudson would want to keep him, she had seemed to like him, but Sherlock was right, it was too much for her. He would probably have to bring him back before Sherlock realised there was even a real dog in 221A in the first place. Christ, even after just two days, John was going to miss that running, cuddling puppy.

“John?”

John looked up quickly, realising too late he had forgotten Sherlock would read everything on his face.

“Oh,” Sherlock breathed out, and John let out a loud sigh.

“It’s alright, I’ll just-”

“No,” Sherlock stopped him, standing up and all but falling on his lap, “Don’t.”

John frowned, looking up at him, “But you said-”

“Forget what I said,” Sherlock smiled, “I was an idiot.”

John laughed, encircling his waist with both arms, “An idiot?”

Sherlock nodded, leaning down for a kiss and John sighed happily into the touch. “Can we go get him?” He asked as soon as they pulled away.

“Well, we had a plan,” John replied.

“A plan?”

John nodded, smiling, “I was suppose to send Mrs. Hudson a message and she would drop the puppy by the door before knocking. Then you’d answer and find him.”

Sherlock sought another kiss, “That’s a good plan.”

“Yeah?”

Sherlock nodded, not moving away and brushing their lips together slowly, “Send the message, John.”


	14. 2023

Sherlock knew exactly before he opened the door the scene he would find in the other room. He could hear his mother’s soft laughter, quickly followed by John’s and his father’s voice. Repressing a sigh, he allowed himself a moment before joining them. It had been John’s idea to come here for the holiday, the two of them remembering all too well how their last Christmas at Sherlock’s parents had ended. Still, Sherlock was glad he did. His parents had been delighted, his mother calling every two days to make sure they were still coming, and his father calling immediately after to apologize. 

“Oh John, you have to see the photo albu-”

Sherlock pushed the door open, storming inside the sitting room, “No he won’t.”

John laughed, turning to face him and smiling, “Something to hide, love?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, walking toward him and all but falling on the sofa next to him. Gladstone immediately came to lie by his feet, his familiar warmth making Sherlock smile as he replied, “Obviously not. But there’s really nothing worth wasting your time on in these albums.”

“I disagree,” Mummy said, standing up and going to the shelves, “I’m sure John would love to see them.” Sherlock glared at her, catching John nodding from the corner of his eye. “Oh, and maybe I could also show him those little books you wrote.”

“Books?” John asked, forcing Sherlock to look back at him with a hand carefully placed on his thigh.

“Yes,” Mummy replied before Sherlock could say anything, “When he was seven, Sherlock noticed I wasn’t writing anymore and said he’d be the writer in our family now.”

“Really?” John smiled, bumping their shoulders together, “A writer?”

Sherlock felt himself smile, unable to resist as he leant down for a quick kiss, “Obviously it didn’t work out.”

John laughed, shaking his head but not looking away and Sherlock felt him shift even closer, “I want to read them.”

“I burned them,” Sherlock said quickly, earning another laugh from John and his father this time.

Mummy walked back to them with two photo albums in hand, shaking her head, “No you didn’t.” She smiled at John, “I’ll find them for you, John.”

“Thank you,” John replied, winking at him, and Sherlock pretended to sulk for a second.

He watched without a word as John turned the pages of the album slowly, listening absently to Mummy’s explanations, but his focus was entirely on John’s hands. It was still a marvel, even after all these years, to realise he knew the exact way they felt against his skin. Soft in the mornings, sneaking under the covers to pull him closer. Warm when pressed against his, fingers threading and thumbs stroking slowly. Hot when travelling all over his body, bringing him to a pleasure Sherlock was certain he would never be able to properly name.

“Sherlock, you alright?”

Sherlock looked up quickly, finding John’s eyes fixed on him, and he felt himself blush. “Yes,” he replied, clearing his throat and glancing at his mother’s knowing face.

“Well, don’t get lost in there,” John smiled softly, passing the album to his lap, “because you have some explaining to do!”

Sherlock looked down only to find a picture of himself dressed a bee, running in the garden with Redbeard following not far behind. He laughed, one hand finding John’s on the sofa, and started to tell him about that ridiculous costume and how Mycroft had gotten an even worse one. 


	15. 2024

Sherlock tapped his fingers impatiently against the table, staring at his computer screen and letting out another long sigh. Why, of all places, did John have to go all the way to another country where they apparently haven’t heard of proper Internet connections. Grabbing his phone, Sherlock started another text but was interrupted by an incoming call.

_ John _ .

“What happened?” Sherlock asked immediately.

“Nothing, love,” John replied with a laugh, “The conference ended up being longer than planned, and I’m only getting back into my room now.”

“Was it even interesting?”

He heard John sigh, “Don’t be like this. You know it was, we choose it together, remember?”

Sherlock closed his eyes, leaning back against his chair, “I’m not sure why I did it in the first place.”

Another laugh, “Because you love me, and you wanted to be sure that if I had to go away for an entire week at least it had to be _worth it_ _and actually useful._ ”

Sherlock allowed himself to smile, focusing only on John’s breathing on the line and almost convincing himself they were in the same room. Almost.

“You never said it’d be during Christmas,” Sherlock breathed out.

John sighed again, and Sherlock could picture him rubbing a hand over his eyes, “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t know back then and once they told us, there was nothing I could do.”

“I know,” Sherlock replied quickly, “I’m not blaming you, it’s just that… I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” John said in a breath, the smile in his voice obvious. “And I really want to see you,” he added just as an incoming skype call rang in the flat.

Hurrying to reply, he leant closer as John appeared on the screen.

“Hi,” John smiled, lowering his phone as he hung up.

“You barely slept last night,” Sherlock deduced right away, not liking at all the marks under John’s eyes. “Or the night before.”

“Yeah,” John sighed, “the bed is awful and I actually like sleeping with you wrapped all over me.”

Sherlock laughed, resisting the urge to stroke the screen as he replied, “I think Gladstone misses you even more than me, he keeps staring at the door.”

“Just tell me you haven’t been staring at it too,” John smiled fondly. Sherlock rolled his eyes, well aware it didn’t need saying. “Only two more days and then I’m home.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” Sherlock asked, not caring how he must sound anymore, “I don’t want to wait two more days.”

John leant closer, as if he had forgotten for a moment they couldn’t actually touch, and Sherlock found himself leaning forward too, “I’ll be back before you know it,” John said softly, “We’ll exchange gifts and walk Gladstone for hours just so I can hold your hand.”

Sherlock smiled, “You can hold my hand inside the flat you know.”

“I know,” John grinned before looking down at his phone that had started to ring. “Sorry, I have to take that, I’ll call you later today?”

Sherlock nodded, “I’ll be right here.”

John looked back at him, smiling, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Sherlock replied before watching John disappear.


	16. 2025

Sherlock took out his keys quickly, John’s chest pressed to his back as both of his hands were working on his trousers, “Hurry up!”

Sherlock groaned, finding it hard to focus with John’s fingers sliding inside his pants and closing around his already aching erection, “Oh god,” he sighed, stopping in front of the door and resting his forehead against it. “I can’t-”

“What is it, love?” John teased, now stroking him from base to head slowly, “Getting distracted?”

Sherlock moaned, biting his lip and rolling his hips. He could feel John’s own erection against his arse, right there and god, how Sherlock  _ wanted _ . He fumbled for his keys again, barely managing to open the door before John was spinning him around and pushing him against the nearest wall.

“It’s all your doing you know,” John whispered in his ear, “walking around like this, looking so fucking gorgeous all the time.”

Sherlock threw his head back, locking one leg around John’s waist and seeking the friction he desperately needed. Getting the hint, John slid both hands down to his arse to lift him up. “Yes, yes,” Sherlock gasped, both legs around John’s waist now and his cock perfectly pressed against his stomach.

John’s mouth was slowly making its way along his jaw and chin, before pulling at his lower lip, and Sherlock could only make sure to remember how to breathe. He held on tighter, “More,” he moaned, rubbing his arse against John’s own erection.

John let out a small sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp before properly kissing him, tongue invading his mouth and making Sherlock’s head spin. He moaned loudly again as John’s hand found his open trousers and slid inside his pants once more, fingers closed around his cock. Only when he felt John smile against his lips did Sherlock realise he was going to make him come just like this.

“Oh god,” he gasped, his cock pulsing in John’s hand at the mere thought.

“My clever, brilliant man,” John grinned, still rubbing his cock against Sherlock’s arse slowly. “You got it, didn’t you?”

“Ye-hmmmmm.”

Sherlock threw his head back again, already feeling the first tremor of his orgasm washing over him. John’s caress was almost just a tease, the angle too awkward to properly stroke him, and yet Sherlock had absolutely no doubt he was going to come inside his pants in less than a minute.  

“You’re amazing,” John continued to whisper, kissing down his neck now, “I want you all the time, do you know that? I want you every bloody second of every bloody day.”

“John, I want- oh god- you, want you.”

John started to stroke him faster, “You have me, love, had me all along.”

Sherlock’s entire body was shaking now, “John, John,  _ John _ .”

With another sharp thrust, John lifted him up even higher, and the with the feeling of his perfect, absolutely perfect, cock sliding against his arse, Sherlock went completely still as he came. Losing track of time entirely, he gave up the last thread of control he had to John and fell boneless into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” John kept on whispering, lips pressed against his temple and both hands still supporting him. “I’ve got you.”

Sherlock smiled lazily, still too shaken from his orgasm, “I love you.”

He felt John shake with soft laughter, “I love you too, my brilliant, amazing, gorgeous husband.”


	17. 2026

John closed his eyes, sighing softly and feeling Sherlock wrap one arm around his waist. He let his head fall onto Sherlock’s shoulder, the warmth emanating both from the fire and Sherlock’s body pressed against him filling his every cell. 

John closed his eyes and let it all sink in.

First, their home. It was strange, even after all these years, to think that this was truly his home. John could still remember that first day, Sherlock waiting for him at the door before letting them both in. He could still see the Union Jack pillow on top of a box, the piles of papers everywhere and the chemistry equipment on the kitchen table. Every detail engraved into his memory. The way Sherlock had looked, all bloody tall and mysterious. Even after just a day, John wouldn’t have been able to look away from him for a second.

John smiled.

_ I was hooked _ , he had written on his blog. Christ, it had been so obvious all along. Sherlock Holmes had burst into his life and upset everything. The chaos John had desperately needed at that time. He could still remember the first night at Baker Street, the sounds coming from the windows and Sherlock pacing downstairs. John had stared at the ceiling and wondered if he would be allowed to stay there for many, many years. Strange, how lucky you could feel one day and be shattered by reality the next.

John shook his head softly, pushing the thoughts away. It was their home. Despite everything they’ve been through, everything that pushed them apart, 221B had always been their home.

He felt Sherlock’s lips graze the top of his head in a silent question, and John nuzzled his nose against his neck.  _ I’m fine, it’s nothing _ .

Then, Sherlock.

_ Sherlock. _

His best friend, his lover, his husband.

Sherlock, one arm around his waist and his free hand holding John’s tightly. Sherlock, currently naked, brilliantly so, and so very warm against him. Sherlock, most likely staring at the fireplace and thinking about some experiment. Sherlock,  _ his _ in every sense of the term.

If anybody had asked him, had dared to actually ask him,  _ Are you in love with him? _ That first year (hell, that first week), John wasn’t sure he would have been able to lie and get away with it. Since the moment they had met, Sherlock had taken over his entire world, and John had been more than happy to let him. In the end, John was almost glad for the years they had spent apart. If anything else, it had only made it all even more certain. Sherlock had come back, John had left, but despite it all, they had found each other over and over again.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Sherlock whispered.

John kissed the warm skin of his neck, squeezing his hands and feeling Sherlock’s wedding ring pressed into his own skin.

“I think I’m falling asleep,” he murmured.

“We can’t sleep here, John,” Sherlock said, the smile in his voice obvious. “Believe it or not, we’re getting rather old, and I’m not sure either of our backs can handle a night spent on the floor.”

“We’re not old,” John muttered.

He felt Sherlock snuggle even closer, “We are and I find it rather marvelous.”

John frowned, yawning, “Why?”

The arm around his waist brought him closer, “Because we’re growing old together, John.”


	18. 2027

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this chapter......  
> warning: minor character's death

The service was beautiful.

John watched, silent and still, as Sherlock walked to the coffin. He could see his hands shaking, and for a moment, he wished he had gone with him. But no, Sherlock needed to do this on his own, to properly say goodbye.

Even after all these years, John wasn’t sure he understood the almost motherly relationship that had tied Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson together all this time. Sherlock had explained once about the weeks he had spent in Florida, taking care of Mr. Hudson’s case. But even then, it had felt as if something had passed between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson, something that had linked them ever since.

Chords echoed in the church, and John recognized the composition Sherlock had worked on it for hours after she had died. Closing his eyes, John let the melody take over him.  

_ Heartbreaking. _

John resisted the urge to stand up and hug his husband. They’d have time for reassurance later, in the intimacy of their home, of their bed. Now, they had to put on a brave face, polite smiles and let strangers present their condolences. Now, they needed to remember the woman, the lady that had been Mrs. Hudson. Not just their landlady, more often their housekeeper, always their friend.

John’s eyes snapped open as soon as he heard it, not quite a sob but something desperately broken. He was on his feet in less than a second, eyes fixed on Sherlock’s trembling shoulders, and hurried to collect him into his arms.

  
Then, for the last time, he whispered,  _ Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson. _


	19. 2028

“I can’t believe you never told me about this house,” John sighed happily, snuggling closer to Sherlock and nuzzling his nose more deeply into the crease of his neck.

He felt Sherlock tighten the arm currently wrapped around his waist, “I had forgotten about it myself until Mycroft reminded me.”

John smiled, lips brushing Sherlock’s skin and he placed a soft kiss there, “I’m glad he did, it’s been a wonderful Christmas.”

“I quite agree,” Sherlock replied in a breath, his smile obvious, “and it’s not yet finished.”

John chuckled, eyes now closed and his body growing warmer and warmer under the covers. They had arrived at the Holmes’ country house in Sussex a few days ago, and John found himself wishing they could stay for a much longer time than originally planned. He loved it here. He loved the upstairs bedroom, the large bed and the view on the sea. He loved the cosy living room, the fireplace and the stone walls. He loved the small kitchen with barely enough space to fit two people ( _ a perfect excuse to kiss you _ , Sherlock had smiled). He loved the garden, _ absolutely _ loved it.

“We should get a bigger sofa at home,” John whispered, “Just like this one.”

Sherlock started to stroke his back, “I like our sofa.”

John shook his head softly, “You love it just because we’re forced to be wrapped around each other all the time if we want to both fit on it.”

“You realise you are currently wrapped around me despite the larger sofa,” Sherlock pointed out.

John laughed again, muttering a quiet “Touché” before kissing Sherlock’s neck again. It had felt strange, being here, away from their home, but at the same time, it had almost felt  _ right _ .

“Love?” John murmured, his fingers now playing with Sherlock’s shirt under the covers, brushing his stomach softly.

“Yes?”

John pulled away to look up at him, finding Sherlock staring right back, a softness around his eyes that made John’s heart beat just a little faster, “I think I want to live somewhere like this when we’re too old to continue chasing after criminals and climbing those stairs every day.”

Sherlock remained silent for a moment, eyes fixed on him, before smiling, “I think I’d like that.”

John felt his own lips stretched into a smile, “Really?”

Sherlock nodded, “Yes. I could have bees, you could turn that blog of yours into a book.”

“I knew you liked the blog,” John teased, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. “Do you really mean it?”

Sherlock nodded again, “I always knew we wouldn’t remain in 221B forever, John.”

John leant up to kiss him slowly, letting their lips brush against each other for long seconds before pulling away, “You do know I love you, right?”

Sherlock laughed softly, nodding as he murmured  _ I do _ before kissing him again.


	20. 2029

John watched as Gladstone ran in front of them, the park strangely empty despite the late hour. They had taken the time to unwrap their presents before deciding to go for a walk, both Gladstone and Sherlock not being able to stand still. 

“You’re certain you like my present?” Sherlock asked suddenly.

John looked back at him, squeezing his hand before smiling, “I love it.”

There was a frown around Sherlock’s eyes as he replied, “You don’t have to actually do it, you know. It was just an idea and I don’t want to force you into wr-”

John stopped them both, using his free hand to pull Sherlock’s face towards his and kissing him quickly. He waited until he felt Sherlock relax into the kiss before pulling away, “I love the book, love that you actually want me to do this, and love you very much.”

Sherlock, not moving away, smiled before sealing their lips again, “I can’t wait to read the first draft,” he whispered.

John shook his head, smiling back at him, “You always criticize my blog and now you can’t wait to read an entire book.”

Sherlock shrugged, resuming walking, “I don’t always criticize your blog.”

John searched for Gladstone quickly, rolling his eyes. He knew Sherlock loved his blog, had known from the first month they lived together. Still, he hadn’t thought Sherlock was serious when he had mentioned the idea to turn it into a book, and yet.

Sherlock stopped abruptly.

“What is i-”

“You do realise you’re going to be great at this,” Sherlock declared, John remained silent. “I know you care about the way other people see your writing, but I have absolutely no doubt that this book will be nothing less than fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” John grinned, finding it really hard not to kiss him again.

It was Sherlock’s turn to roll his eyes, a faint blush on his cheeks, “You compliment me all the time, it’s only fair I do the same.”

John laughed, wondering once again what he ever did to deserve to be married to this brilliant man, and pulled him back against him for another kiss. 


	21. 2030

Sherlock woke up to John leaving gentle kisses down his jaw and neck. He smiled lazily, shifting to his side and closer to him before sighing happily. He felt John’s smile against his skin, neither of them yet acknowledging he was awake. In a way, Sherlock wasn’t sure he would ever get used to waking up like this, even after all these years, even after all the reassuring words and promises, it all felt as if it could slip away at any time.

“Don’t,” John whispered suddenly.

Sherlock smiled, refusing to open his eyes yet as John pulled away and was now surely staring at him. He wondered if John felt like this too when Sherlock was looking at him, exposed but safe. 

John’s next words were whispered right against his lips, “Morning, love.” Sherlock’s smile grew wider as John moved even closer, one leg sliding between his own, and suddenly Sherlock was very aware of a very hard erection pressed against his hip.

“Morning,” he grinned, rolling his hips and feeling John’s sigh against his lips.

“Hmmm,” John moaned, finally kissing him, and Sherlock let both hands slide down his back slowly.

They rocked together like this for several minutes, parting just for air before kissing again, and Sherlock found himself wishing they never had to leave this bed. He pressed them closer, John’s hands now on his arse and adding just the right pressure to their movements.

“Oh god,” John panted, stopping a moment to readjust their positions and by doing so allowing both of their erections to slide against one another.

“Brilliant,” Sherlock moaned, throwing his head back.

John was now kissing at his neck, teeth grazing the skin, and Sherlock thrust faster against him. For some unknown reason, their morning sex had always been slow and  _ fast _ . Even after all these years, they could both come alarming quickly, but Sherlock couldn’t care less. He loved it. Loved to feel John shaking into his arms, loved to hear him pant and groan, loved to feel him rock harder against him.

“God, I love you,” Sherlock breathed out, causing John to lose his pace for a moment, and Sherlock looked back at him, smiling.

“Oh fuck,” John moaned before crashing their lips together again.

Sherlock used one arm to push the covers away, his entire body too hot,  _ too hot _ , and locked one leg around John’s hip. Both of their moans got lost into the kiss at the added pressure. Sherlock could already feel his orgasm building, slowly threatening to explode, and he dug his fingers into John’s back.

“John, John,” he moaned, arching his head backward again.

“Yes, come on, yes,” John panted, rocking even faster. “Oh god, I’m-”

He stopped entirely, coming on both their stomachs, and Sherlock only had to look at him to reach his own climax. They remained frozen in place for long seconds, their heavy breathing echoing in the room, and Sherlock let out a soft giggle.

“What is it?” John asked, still panting.

“This Christmas promises to be a good one,” Sherlock smiled, leaning down for another kiss and catching John’s laughter between his lips.


	22. 2031

Mycroft leant over the table, “He’s taking rather long.”

Sherlock smiled, glancing at the closed door to their bedroom, “Getting your gift.”

Mycroft frowned at him, “Gift?”

“You do realise it’s Christmas, right?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, leaning back against his chair and looking at the door as well, “I didn’t bring any gifts.”

“John insisted we needed to get you one,” Sherlock sighed. “Something about family and how important it is to celebrate it.”

Mycroft looked back at him, something sharp in his eyes, and Sherlock found himself traveling back thirty years. In a way, he would never get used to being under his brother’s scrutiny.

“You went gift shopping for me,” Mycroft stated.

Sherlock shrugged, “I didn’t go willingl-”

“Please tell me you’re not fighting again,” John interrupted them, walking out of the bedroom with two gifts in hand.

Sherlock frowned, eyes moving from the presents to John’s amused face.

“I wouldn’t call it fighting,” Mycroft replied. “I was simply pointing out that I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts.”

“Don’t worry,” John smiled, sitting down next to Sherlock and setting the gifts on the table. “We didn’t talk about it before, and it was our pleasure to get you something.”

Mycroft nodded, most likely trying to express his gratitude without having to actually say  _ thank you _ , but Sherlock was still too preoccupied by the gifts to care.

“We’ve already gave each other gifts,” he declared, making John laugh.

“I know,” he smiled, “but I still have one for you.”

Sherlock shifted closer, barely sitting on his chair now, and slid one hand higher on John’s thigh, “You kept it in our bedroom all this time?”

John smiled at him, his own hand coming to cover his, “Hidden in plain sight.”

Sherlock felt a now too familiar warmth spread throughout his chest and leant in for a quick kiss, almost forgetting about his brother watching, and pulled away slowly, “Clever.”

John laughed again before shaking his head and turning back to face Mycroft, “You can open yours first. Sherlock can wait.”

Sherlock made an offended sound but turned toward Mycroft quickly. Even if he was trying not to let it show, Sherlock could see the small smile on his lips and surprise in his eyes as he opened the present. Sherlock had found it, even if he wouldn’t admit it publicly, and immediately told John that’s what they were getting him. Seeing Mycroft actually,  _ actually _ , smile strangely made it worth it.

“Peter Pan, original edition,” John said after a long minute of silence, probably worrying Mycroft didn’t like it. “Sherlock said yo-”

“Thank you,” Mycroft cut in, looking up sharply at them. His eyes found Sherlock and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Sherlock felt John’s hand tighten around his own. “Thank  you,” Mycroft said again, just a little softer this time.

Sherlock nodded, reading on his brother’s face everything he needed to know at the moment. 


	23. 2032

“You need to stay in bed,” John whispered, his hand still brushing Sherlock’s forehead softly. 

Sherlock leant into the touch, turning to his side under the covers and getting closer to John’s body. He wasn’t lying down with him, probably for the best really, but Sherlock found himself hoping he was pressed against his husband.

“It’s just a flu,” John continued, “It will pass.”

Sherlock groaned, closing his eyes, “I hate it.”

He heard John laugh before there were gentle lips against his temple, “I’m sorry, love.”

Sherlock sighed, raising his head just enough for John to kiss him again. He shifted closer, if possible, and felt John sit more comfortably against the bedframe.

“You don’t have to stay,” Sherlock murmured.

He felt John’s hand move down his cheek and jaw, “I know.”

Sherlock smiled, kissing his fingers as they brushed his lips. He could already feel himself falling asleep, the familiar scent of their bed and the feeling of John’s compact body next to him making it hard to stay awake.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled.

“Am I?” John asked, the smile in his voice obvious.

“Hmm, yes,” Sherlock sighed. “I like it.”

John laughed again, “I happy you do.”

Sherlock nuzzled his head deeper into the pillow, “I like a lot of things about you.”

“Good to know,” John breathed out, his hand now back in his hair.

“I like you when sing, you have a pretty voice,” Sherlock continued, not certain what he was saying. “I like when you sit close to me on the sofa, I like when you kiss me in the morning when I haven’t come to bed all night.” He stopped, yawning and shifting closer,  “Also,” he smiled, “I like when we hug while we’re cooking.”

“You never cook,” John pointed out.

“Hmm, I can cook.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Sherlock shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ll cook for you later.”

“Thank you, love.”

Sherlock sighed again, “I like it when you call me love.”

He felt John lean down for another soft kiss, “I know you do.”

“Don’t stop,” Sherlock mumbled, not sure what he was talking about anymore.

“I won’t,” John whispered, “I won’t ever stop, I promise.”

Sherlock fell asleep before he could reply. 


	24. 2033

Sherlock lowered his violin, staring outside the window for another second before turning around. His eyes found John’s sleeping figure immediately, his entire body relaxing at the sight. Twenty-three years since the first time John had sat on that chair, looked up at him and agreed to tie their lives together. Twenty-three years, and Sherlock still couldn’t believe his luck.

Making sure not to wake him up, Sherlock sat down in his own chair, never looking away from John. Even during their first year of living together, John had always put his trust in him. It had felt strange back then, deducing John’s trust issues but finding him asleep in their living room two days after he’d moved in.

For some unknown reason, John had chosen to trust him of all people.

John had chosen to become his friend, to follow him into danger, to stay by his side. John had loved him, still loved him, promised to love him always.

John.

Right here. 

His husband.

Sherlock closed his eyes, letting the feeling sink in. He belonged to this man, had been his for so long he had forgotten what it felt like to be alone. John had chosen him, among all people,  _ him _ .

“You’ve stopped playing.”

Sherlock smiled, eyes still closed, “You were asleep.”

He heard John moving around, “Not anymore.”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open for a second, just in time to watch John stand up and crawl onto his lap, both hands coming to cup his face. Sherlock stared up at him, John’s thumbs stroking his cheeks and his smile reaching his eyes. Breathtaking.

“What were you thinking about?” John asked in a whisper.

Sherlock felt his heart miss a beat, the answer so very simple and yet, “You.”

John’s smile turned into something close to adoration, “Want to know what I was dreaming about?”

Sherlock nodded softly, their noses brushing.

“You,” John breathed out in a murmur before leaning down to kiss him.


	25. 2034

They were still asleep.

John, on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the other locked around Sherlock’s waist.

Sherlock, on his side, nose buried in his husband’s neck, both legs tangled with John’s.

They didn’t fall asleep this way. John’s body had been pressed against Sherlock’s, chest against back, arms around him, nose in his hair. They just had sex, slowly, so very slowly. John had pushed into Sherlock tenderly, the two of them moving as one with each thrust, staring into each other’s eyes and forgetting the world around them. John had swiped away a tear from Sherlock’s cheek, had leant down and kissed him, had poured his love into the kiss over and over again.

They weren’t going to wake up this way. Sherlock was going to roll onto his back soon, John following him until he could be the one breathing him in with each breath, smiling into his sleep. Sherlock was going to wake up first and in less than three seconds, would slide his arm around John’s waist to press them closer together. It would take another four minutes for John to flutter awake, kissing Sherlock’s neck before seeking his first kiss of the day.

Then, Christmas, friends, family, diner, gifts and a walk to the park.

_ Moments _ .

But right now, Sherlock was moving just an inch closer, the hand on John’s chest sliding down, and John’s entire body shivered.

They were still asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here goes the end of this story. Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments during these past 25 days, it's been a joy to read them all. I hope all you had/will have an amazing Christmas, and see you all soon after canon johnlock :)
> 
> Also, thank you so much to my amazing beta Heather for editing each chapter every day and being the first to comment on them <3
> 
> Pauline.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are really appreciated :)
> 
> [I do fic commission now](http://johnlockfulfillment.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-commission)


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